


Sacrifice Fly

by facethefall



Series: Wait For Spring [7]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facethefall/pseuds/facethefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the second to last day of spring training and Kurt’s future is on the line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice Fly

Kurt’s been in Arizona for over a month and a half, dry heat dizzying and mountains in the background, but it’s the last two days that mean anything at all. Two more days until The Giants have to finalize their opening day roster, cut down the last 26 players to 25. Kurt’s had an amazing spring training, ERA under 2 and his curveball perfected with major league coaching. It’s between him and The Giants first round draft pick, a short stop straight out of high school that cost them ten million to sign.

  
He’s in the clubhouse when he hears his manager’s booming voice, “Hummel, my office!” echo off the lockers. He’s half in uniform and half out, plain white t-shirt, but his socks pulled up to his knees. He jumps up immediately and tries to prepare himself for a conversation that could end with, “looks like you’ll be starting the year with the triple-a club in Fresno.”  
  
Kurt walks in, his hand on the doorknob and his socked toes curling into the carpet. “You wanted to see me, coach?" He asks, keeps his voice cool and level and strong. He reads the articles and watches the news, knows that the fans want the flashy short stop with the big bat starting the year in San Francisco. He wouldn’t mind starting the year in triple-a, he keeps telling himself over and over and hopes that soon he’ll start to believe it.  
  
"Shut the door," the manager says gruffly. Kurt’s still a little nervous around him, even though they’ve been in the same clubhouse for almost two months. He’s The Giants manager, the person Kurt has to impress more than anyone else. He’s sitting behind his desk, piece of paper stuck to a clipboard and a pencil scratching notes. He doesn’t move his eyes up when he says to Kurt, “take a seat."  
  
Kurt shuts the door softly and sits down in an uncomfortably hard chair across from the desk. He hooks his ankles together and crosses his hands in his lap, lets his eyes drift across the walls of the small office while his manager continues to write on the paper. There are pictures covering the walls; a wide shot of The Giants winning the World Series in 2010, Juan Marichal and his leg kick up over his head, a black and white shot of Bobby Thomson and The Shot Heard Round the World.  
  
"All right, kid. So you know we have to make some cuts," his manager says out of nowhere and Kurt’s eyes snap back. His grip on his hands tightens and he nods his head. “And it’s tough to do, toughest part of my job."  
  
"I’m sure," Kurt mumbles because he’s not sure what to say. His manager’s mind is made up, there’s nothing Kurt can do now to talk him into starting the season in San Francisco, no amount of impressive ERA or strike out totals matter anymore, and it feels like a punch to the gut.  
  
"So our one hundred twenty-six million dollar mistake is in the last year of his contract," the manager starts out, referring to the big name pitcher the Giants signed six years ago, and Kurt nods along. “He hasn’t been right in a few years and we’re all worried this is the year his arm is gonna give out. Could happen, if it does he’ll need Tommy John surgery, we don’t know for sure." Kurt swallows the lump in his throat. “Anyway, you’re gonna start the year with the big club, get used to Major League hitting in case you gotta step into the rotation."  
  
Kurt feels himself get light headed immediately, the blood draining from his face. He’d been so prepared, so ready to say, “well, thank you for the opportunity, coach. I hope to impress everyone down in Fresno this year," and the rush of emotions leaves him feeling dizzy. The big leagues, The Show, pitching to hitters that he has on his baseball card collection at home. He sees his manager’s lips moving, but all he can hear is static in his ears.  
  
"…won’t be starting the year in the rotation. We’ll stick you in the bullpen as long relief for now, keep your arm ready in case you have to step in." Kurt picks up the end of the sentence. His hands are shaking slightly and he shoves them underneath his thighs.  
  
"Thank you, thank you so much for this," Kurt says when he finally finds his voice. His manager pushes himself back from the desk and stands up slowly, Kurt hopping to his feet to follow suit.  
  
"Don’t thank me, Hummel. You earned it," he says before walking passed Kurt and out the door.   
  
Kurt drops back into the same uncomfortable chair, the back plastic and too hard, and lets his head fall back against the wall with his eyes closed. He can’t believe it, can’t wrap his mind around the fact that in six days he’ll be in a Giants uniform, black and orange and white, walking up the dugout steps and into the field. They’ll call out his name over the intercom, introduce him to the sold-out crowd as a member of the 2013 San Francisco Giants. And suddenly it hits him like a bolt of electricity.  _Blaine_. He has to talk to Blaine.  
  
He jumps up and quickly runs over to his locker, shouts of ‘good job, kid’ coming from some of the veterans. He can’t stop himself from smiling, not even when he sees the short stop right out of high school packing up his locker, shoulders and eyes down. Kurt wants to stop and talk to him, tell him that the minors really aren’t that bad and to try his hardest and everything else he was told when he was coming up through the system. But he only has one thing on his mind as he reaches into his locker to grab his cellphone and car keys, slipping his feet into sandals before turning around and making his way outside.  
  
There are reporters everywhere outside, milling around and talking to players as they leave the clubhouse. A few call out to him, ‘hey, stop and talk for a minute? How’s it feel to be on the Giants?’ but Kurt ignores them in favor of trying to find his rental car. It’s a new model, something sleek and shiny, but Kurt’s mind is clouded and for a minute he looks for a piece of junk, bottom rusted and dented along the sides, knowing the inside will smell like ocean and not new car.  
  
He finally find the right car, slips inside where it’s easily a hundred degrees after sitting in the Arizona heat all day long. But Kurt can’t even feel it as he brings out his phone, fingers trembling as he slides open the screen and punches buttons until the other end starts ringing.  
  
"Hey," Blaine’s soft voice comes through the speaker and hits Kurt’s ear, instantly calming him. “Give me one second to get outside, okay?"  
  
Kurt nods, but then realizes that Blaine can’t see him. “Okay," he answers, one hand gripping tightly to the steering wheel. Kurt hears Blaine greeting people in the background, “hey," and “no, it’s fine, really" and “it was nice playing with you, too". Kurt frowns slightly but then Blaine is back in his ear.  
  
"I miss you," are the first words out of Blaine’s mouth and Kurt smiles. They’ve seen each other a ridiculous amount by their standards, The Giants’ spring training stadium is only forty minutes away from the Dodgers’.  
  
"You saw me three days ago," Kurt teases gently.  
  
"Still miss you," Blaine insists, his voice quiet and Kurt knows it’s because there are always reporters lurking. He sighs. “I don’t know what I’m going to do once the season starts and you’re in Fresno and I’m in Albuquerque.  
  
"About that," Kurt starts, the excitement that faded only briefly coming back strong. “That’s what I called you about."  
  
"You didn’t get traded, did you?" Blaine starts in a rush, his voice anxious and a little scared. “Because I know we’re not close, but at least we’re in the same part of the country, and we’ll be in the same division eventually." He pauses, remembers where he is and lowers his voice. “Just please don’t tell me you got traded to a team in the East."  
  
Kurt can picture him, pacing back and forth, hands gesturing and eyes open wide. It’s the same look he gets when the bases are loaded with no one out.  
  
"I didn’t get traded," Kurt assures him, hears the weight leave Blaine’s shoulders with a long happy sigh.  
  
"Okay, good. Great," he says happy and relaxed. “But something’s up, your voice is off. What is it?"  
  
"I did it." His voice breaks for the fist time, alone in his car and with Blaine on the phone. “I’m starting the year with the Giants." He’s smiling so hard it hurts, and maybe he’s crying a little too, but he knows it’s okay because Blaine understands.  
  
"I knew it!" Blaine shouts so loudly that Kurt actually has to pull the phone away from his ear. “I knew they weren’t going to pick that short stop, I knew it was going to be you, Kurt!" He’s laughing bright and loud and Kurt laughs, too.  
  
"Blaine, quiet," Kurt shushes through his laughter, wiping what’s left of his tears off his cheeks with his shoulder.  
  
But Blaine only whoops louder, yelling out, “Kurt Hummel is a San Francisco Giant and I don’t care who knows it!"  
  
"Oh my god," Kurt says, just a little mortified. “Calm down, don’t do anything stupid."  
  
"Right, okay," Blaine answers, clears his throat in an attempt to calm himself. “I knew this was going to happen, I knew you could do it. You’re amazing, Kurt. I’m so proud of you." Blaine pauses for just a second before continuing. “You’re going to make fun of me for this, but I already printed out the directions."  
  
Kurt’s mind flashes back to a summer and to a bedroom, windows open and the sea breeze drifting through. To crinkled white paper with black words and a thick blue line through the middle. “And?" Kurt asks, and maybe the tears are back, but for different reasons.  
  
"It’s over sixteen hours from Albuquerque to San Francisco," Blaine says so quietly that Kurt has to press the phone closer into his ear.  
  
They both knew it was going to be difficult, being in different parts of the country, never in the same place for more than four days before packing up and moving on to the next city. Being on different teams and in different leagues, time zone differences and hundreds of miles apart. But it’s worth it, so worth it, and Kurt says, “well. I suppose you’ll just have to get used to airplanes." Blaine laughs through the tears that Kurt knows are there. He continues, “and I know you’ll be called up soon. Their catcher can’t stay healthy forever. And then we’ll have bigger things to worry about, like how me striking you out every time you’re up to bat is going to effect our relationship."  
  
They laugh together, the tension gone completely, replaced with happiness and hope and dreams of Major League ballparks. “I love you so much," Blaine says, lets it tumble out of his mouth all at once.   
  
"I love you, too," Kurt answers, no doubt in his mind at all. They stay quiet on the phone for a minute, listening to the other breathe, when Blaine starts talking again.  
  
"How did you find out? Are you going to be in the starting rotation? Is their catcher working with you on your breaking pitch? I want all the details."  
  
Kurt leans back in the seat of his car, real leather burning against the skin of his arms this time, closes his eyes and tells Blaine everything.


End file.
